Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
by caremkefo
Summary: Rodney's never had much luck with relationships - if you can call his sexual encounters that. He knows his petty, arrogant nature keeps people from getting too close and, given his insecurity about his looks, he's learned be okay with that. But that was before he fell for Sheppard, and before Sheppard kissed him. Beta'd by the wonderful popkin16.


_"My biggest fear is that eventually you will see me the way I see myself."_ — unknown

* * *

Nobody has seen Rodney McKay naked since he was twenty-three and his college roommate accidentally walked in on him changing. Well, except for his doctor.

When he's injured in the field, he does his best to tend to his own wounds until he can get back to Atlantis. When he's not, he pretends to find something on his datapad interesting to the point of distraction, until everyone else has left the communal showers. Or, if there isn't a contagion risk, he showers in his own room. He's always been insecure about his looks - it's what happens when you start high school before everyone else your age and your classmates all hit puberty without you.

He had a few sexual trysts during his college years - mostly drunk handjobs, awkwardly fumbling through layers of clothes until his underwear was damp and sticky. He went down on a couple of guys - and a girl - in the science labs after hours, but they never returned the favour - instead leaving him to jerk himself off, alone in an empty lab. It's what you're left with when you overcompensate for your insecurities by projecting an illusion of arrogance, designed to keep people at a distance so they don't get too close - so they can't hurt you.

Men or women, he isn't fussy - though he's more vocal about his attraction towards women. Overcompensating, again - this time trying not to give the impression he's gay. That leads to one of two things, in his experience - both painful - either he'll be beaten by those who feel threatened by his sexuality, or he'll end up being used to satisfy the curiosity of those who are experimenting. Because no-one would _really_ find a guy like him attractive - he's overweight, his hair is receding and thinning, and even _if_ anyone looked past that all they'd see is a petty, arrogant man who's bad with people.

All of this and more is the reason why, when Sheppard turns up uninvited and unannounced at his door one night after he's released from the infirmary and kisses him without a word, Rodney pushes him away and closes the door, pulling out the control crystal for good measure.

His eyes are already swimming with unshed tears that he blinks away furiously, and there is silence from the other side of the door. Then, a moment later, brisk footsteps stride away - and Rodney is alone once more.

. * * * .

He avoids Sheppard, after that. At first he doesn't realise he's doing it - eating his meals earlier or later than usual, in the labs or in his room instead of the dining hall - and it's only when Teyla asks him if everything is alright that he realises he hasn't seen his teammates in over a week.

"Fine. Everything's fine."

The truth is, he's a little bit in love with Sheppard. Okay, a _lot_ in love with him. But he's too afraid of getting hurt to go there, even if he's already hurting for _not_ going there. Because at least this way, he'll still have Sheppard. At least he will, once he stops avoiding him. And isn't it ironic that he's losing his grip on everything by trying to cling to it too hard?

"I'm fine," he tells her, as if the more he says the word the truer it will be.

She doesn't believe him, but leaves him alone.

. * * * .

Ronon doesn't speak to him.

But, given that he's _Ronon_, that doesn't necessarily mean anything.

. * * * .

Eventually he's recovered enough that Beckett will let him go off world again, and Rodney steps through the gate with the intention of keeping his head down and his mouth shut. Until a group of Genii turn up, and then there's running, and shooting, and more running, and shouting.

"Sheppard's hit!"

"Rodney, dial the gate!"

"Sheppard!"

"Go! Get out of here!"

"Ronon, I'll cover you!"

"Teyla, go! Go!"

"Ronon!"

"I've got him!"

"Atlantis, this is McKay! We're coming in hot! Have a med team standing by!"

They're surrounded by Genii when they leave, and are surrounded by medical staff when they arrive.

Ronon lies Sheppard on a waiting gurney. Teyla hovers as Beckett checks him over. They both ignore Sheppard's complaints about disobeying his orders to save him. But McKay snaps.

"It's not cool to stay behind and die! So just say 'thank you for saving my ass' or _shut up!_"

Sheppard glares are Rodney, then deliberately looks in the other direction.

"It looks worse than it is," Beckett assures them, before turning to Sheppard. "But you're goin' tae need stitches, so you won't be goin' offworld fer a few weeks."

And then they're gone - Beckett taking Sheppard to the infirmary, Ronon and Teyla going to shower and change before following, Elizabeth retreating to her office to begin her report - leaving Rodney standing in front of the gate, alone.

. * * * .

McKay creeps into the infirmary after hours, when there's fewer staff to avoid and Sheppard is asleep. Or at least, _should_ be asleep. He freezes as he sneaks past the curtain around Sheppard's bed, and is met by his hostile stare.

"I, uh..." He swallows. "I wanted to see how you were. So, here I am. Um, how are you?"

"It's the middle of the night, McKay," Sheppard tells him tightly.

"Oh. Yes."

Sheppard keeps staring at him.

"Are you tired? I can go, if you want. Or not. I mean—"

"Are you going to leave or are you going to sit down?" Sheppard asks him, his tone tired but a little sharp.

He sits.

Sheppard stares at him.

McKay avoids his gaze.

"Thanks for saving my ass," Sheppard says, by way of an olive branch.

"Well, I didn't, really. Teyla and Ronon— I mean, I just dialled—"

Sheppard raises his eyebrows. "Just say 'you're welcome' or shut up." There's no bite to his words, however.

McKay shuts his mouth and swallows. "You're welcome."

There's more silence, and then Sheppard says, "I'm sorry."

"For what? Getting shot? Or asking us to leave you there?"

Sheppard looks at him, then down at his hands. "For before."

_Oh._

"I thought... Well, it doesn't matter what I thought. I thought wrong."

A warm, tingly feeling swirls to life in McKay's stomach. Sheppard almost sounds _disappointed_.

"Can we just pretend it never happened?"

"Why _did_ it happen?" McKay asks, sounding far braver than he feels.

Sheppard tips his head back into the pillows. "I misread the situation," he states, as if it's a mission report.

"Sheppard—"

"What? Do you want me to tell you that I was drunk? Because I wasn't. Do you want me to tell you that I love you? Because I don't."

Hurt flashes across his face, before he realises that Sheppard is still talking.

"I thought you were going to die - there was _so much blood_—"

"It wasn't _my_ blood," Rodney points out. "Not _all_ of it, anyway."

"I didn't know that! I thought you were _dying!_"

"Your absence at my bedside while you thought I was dying is noted," Rodney tells him dryly.

Sheppard lets out a sigh that sounds defeated, and Rodney realises he's not making this easy for him so presses his lips together and resolves to stay silent.

It takes a moment before Sheppard speaks again. "But then Carson said you were going to be fine, and I suddenly felt like I could _breathe_ again - the ache in my chest had gone. And that scared me just as much as thinking I'd lost you, because it meant you'd become _important_ \- someone to _fear_ losing. And I needed to be alone to figure out what that meant."

Sheppard finds his hands very interesting at that moment.

And they are very _nice_ hands.

"You're not the first guy... but usually I can shrug this stuff off and ignore it. But of course you're _Rodney McKay_ so you won't let me ignore you."

Rodney hears himself snort at the idea that someone would want _him_ \- a noise which brings Sheppard's eyes up to look at him. He can read the hurt, there, thinking that Rodney is laughing at him.

"Oh God, Sheppard, I'm not—"

"Gay," Sheppard finishes for him coolly, looking down at his hands again. "Yeah, I got that."

He flinches when Rodney takes his hand, and Rodney trails a thumb soothingly over his knuckles. "I was _going_ to say, 'not laughing at you'," he explains. "But I'm also not gay, for the record. I'm... I'm actually bi. Because I mean, _hello_ \- I've mentioned my huge pathetic crush on Samantha Carter, right?"

"You might have mentioned her once," Sheppard smiles despite himself. Then he suddenly seems to realise that Rodney's _holding his hand_ and his breath hitches.

"But a crush on one person doesn't mean you can't develop feelings for another," he continues carefully. He's still afraid of _explicitly_ putting himself out there, but willing to give Sheppard a few prods.

"You mean someone who can warm your bed while you continue to pine from afar?" Sheppard asks bitterly.

And for crying out loud, how oblivious can Sheppard be?! "_I mean_," Rodney says emphatically, "that you can develop _real feelings_ that are _stronger_ than a pathetic long-distance _crush_ on someone with whom it would realistically never work." He squeezes Sheppard's hand for emphasis.

"You pushed me away," Sheppard reminds him tightly. "You kicked me out. You didn't talk to me."

Rodney takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I haven't had much luck with relationships." _If you can call them that._ "And I..." _I haven't been with anyone in over a decade. I'm overweight. I'm still technically a virgin. I'm not good enough for you._

"You..?"

"I didn't want to lose you," he says. "Our friendship means a lot to me."

Sheppard licks his lips. Narrows his eyes. "Am I being friend-zoned?"

Rodney's stomach starts doing backflips. "Not if you're serious," he forces out. "If I'm more than a one night stand, more than a fling to pass the time, then no. You're most definitely _not_ being friend-zoned."

Sheppard's face lights up as he smiles, and the years seem to melt away. It isn't fair that they can be almost the same age, yet Sheppard looks that good.

"I think I've established that you're more than either of those things," he tells Rodney.

He has, and Rodney is seriously impressed by just how much talking Sheppard's actually done in the last five minutes.

Unfortunately, Dr Biro takes that moment to interrupt them as she does her night rounds.

"Dr McKay, visiting hours are over! Get out. Out! Let Colonel Sheppard sleep. And _you_ should get some sleep, too! No sneaking off to the labs - straight to bed with you."

"Night, Rodney," Sheppard says as he settles down for the night.

"Night, Sheppard," he says automatically as he moves to leave. "John," he amends with a soft smile, his name coming out like a secret that only they know.

Then Dr Biro is ushering him out - out of the cubicle, out of the ward, and out of the infirmary - leaving him alone in the corridor. Except maybe this time he's _not_ so alone, as he returns to his quarters with Sheppard's smile imprinted in his mind.

. * * * .

The next morning McKay scoffs his breakfast - _inhales_ it, if you ask Carson - so he can make it to the infirmary in time for Sheppard being released.

"Slow down, Rodney - _chew_ yer food. Before you choke and end up in ma infirmary _again_."

"Can't," he tells him through a mouthful of food. "Places to go, people to see."

Like the infirmary. And John.

Who... isn't there when Rodney and Carson arrive.

"Colonel Sheppard was discharged an hour ago," Dr Biro tells him when he asks - _demands_, if you ask Carson. "I suggested he return to his quarters and take it easy."

_Take it easy. Take it easy! When had Sheppard ever been known to take it easy?!_ Rodney silently fumes as he compiles a mental list of all the places Sheppard might be if he's not in his quarters.

"When have you ever known the Colonel tae take it easy?" Carson asks, amused.

"Who knows _where_ he'll be?" Rodney complains as he storms out of the infirmary in search of the elusive military officer.

He's not in his quarters, the canteen, or the gym. Chuck assures Rodney that Sheppard hasn't been in the Gateroom since his return the day before. Elizabeth has been in her office all morning and hasn't seen him. He isn't with Teyla or Ronon - neither of whom will admit to having seen him - or in the labs. Zelenka looks cagey, which makes Rodney suspicious. In the end it's Major Lorne who quietly suggests that perhaps the Colonel doesn't want to be found, in a tone which implies he might know something more than he's letting on, which mollifies Rodney enough that he returns to the lab to get some work done even as he worries about _why_ Sheppard might need some space.

. * * * .

He unintentionally misses lunch as he works, so is starving when Radek tells him it's dinner time and to go eat something before he 'passes out from manly hunger'. Rodney decides to overlook the Czech's mockery because he has more important things to concentrate on - such as what Sheppard's been up to all day.

"You skipped lunch again, didn't you?" Carson asks when he sees the way Rodney's wolfing down his dinner.

"I was working," Rodney tells him with his mouth full.

Carson looks at him with mild disgust as sauce drips down his chin.

"Mind if I join you?"

Rodney stops chewing and looks up. Sheppard's standing there, all relaxed charm. Carson must nod, because he slides into an empty seat.

"Rodney, you've got, uh..." Sheppard motions at his mouth.

Rodney flushes, mortified, and hastily wipes the forgotten sauce off his face. He sits in silence as he finishes his dinner, listening to his two friends chatter easily between themselves in a way that he envies.

When John is finished he looks at Rodney's empty plate, then at Rodney. "Have you got a minute?" he asks casually.

"For you I've got two. But make it good."

John smirks, and leads Rodney in the direction of the scientist's quarters. Rodney's stomach is doing somersaults, and his eyes keep wandering to Sheppard's ass whenever the corridor is empty. _Get a grip!_

When they're inside and the door is closed, Rodney opens his mouth to ask what he wanted, because even after last night he's not going to assume anything. When John's hand cups his face, however, he closes it again. Sheppard looks a little scared, Rodney thinks as his face slowly moves closer. Of course, the last time he did this Rodney ran away and avoided him, so it's understandable.

This time when their lips meet, Rodney allows himself to want it. He kisses John back hungrily, hands fisting in his shirt, moving over his shoulders, one arm wrapping around his neck to pull him closer as another hand slides around his back and down, down, down. He wants to touch everywhere, all at once. Sheppard becomes even more eager, if that was possible, when Rodney's hand skims over his ass, and the door is hard against his back when he staggers backwards. He lets out a noise of discomfort even as he keeps kissing Sheppard, but then John's leading him towards the bed.

They kiss, and touch, and stroke, and it feels _amazing_ to _finally_ have Sheppard like this. Every nerve in his body is tingling in a sickening contradiction of fear and excitement and anticipation.

Long fingers skim under his shirt, splaying out across his stomach as if to touch every inch of him - and there are a _lot_ of inches. Rodney shudders under Sheppard's touch and closes his eyes.

Sheppard mistakes it for pleasure, until a single traitorous tear trickles down his cheek.

"Rodney?" Sheppard asks, gently wiping it away with a thumb. "What's wrong?"

McKay crosses his arms over himself, and tries to sink deeper into the mattress. He doesn't look at John.

Sheppard kisses him, soft and chaste. "Hey."

"I can't do this," he whispers.

Immediately Sheppard sits up, putting space between them, and Rodney loves him all the more for it.

"This?" Sheppard asks. His breath hitches. "Or _us?_"

Rodney looks at him, then, and sees the fear in Sheppard's eyes. Fear that he's pushed too hard, too fast; fear that he's going to lose Rodney.

"I'm not..." _Attractive. Good-looking. Desirable._ "I'm not much to look at. Can we... Can I..." He yanks his t-shirt down where it had risen up over Sheppard's hands.

"You want to stop," Sheppard states. "That's okay. We can do that."

"No," Rodney says, because that's not what he wants at all. "I just want to keep this on."

"Why?"

Rodney opens and closes his mouth, because how does he answer that without sounding even more pathetic?

But Sheppard eventually seems to get it, and he looks sad as he struggles for words before settling on, "God, Rodney, do you know what you do to me?"

"Um, no?"

Sheppard huffs. "Let me show you," he whispers, moving closer again, but then his hands drop to Rodney's buckle, and _oh, no - no no no—_

"Sheppard!" he exclaims, batting his hands away.

Disappointment and hurt cloud John's face, just for a moment, before he schools his expression into a more neutral one.

"Am I moving too fast?" Sheppard asks, a hint of something that might be desperation in his tone. "Is that what it is? Because we can slow down."

John looks so unsure of himself in that moment that Rodney is overcome with the urge to reassure him. He cups a cheek with his hand, stroking across the coarse stubble, and Sheppard's eyes close as he loses himself in the touch.

Rodney takes the opportunity to look at him; the flecks of grey growing in at his temples, the wary lines creasing his forehead, the faintest trace of a hopeful smile tugging at his lips despite his attempts to guard himself. For all the times he's called John 'Kirk' - and he can't blame anyone for being attracted to John Sheppard - there hasn't been anyone with whom it's moved beyond flirting. It's strange seeing him like this, and oddly reassuring. Because if Sheppard - who risks life and limb on a semi-regular basis - is anxious, it must be something meaningful. And it's easier to feel anxious himself knowing that Sheppard is, too.

"That stuff you said last night," Rodney begins nervously. "Did you mean it?"

"Every word," Sheppard tells him, his eyes burning into his as he watches, waits, to see where Rodney will take this.

But Rodney says nothing, knowing his silence is out of character but lost for words. Words are important, they've established that. Words would have prevented him from hurting John. Would have gotten them here all the sooner. But he doesn't know the right words to say to _keep_ John here, with him. He only knows the words to say to push people away.

Sheppard swallows, as usual the braver of the two of them. "I'm not good at talking about my... about how I feel. But I _do_ like you, Rodney - a lot more than I should."

"I came to see you in the infirmary this morning," he tells him, and it comes out like an accusation.

"So I heard."

"I looked for you."

Sheppard looked guilty. "I heard that, too."

"You were avoiding me," Rodney states. He can't be mad about it because he's done the same recently, but it still hurts. And now he understands how Sheppard must have felt.

"I needed to think."

"About?"

Sheppard's eyes flicked up to meet his. "Whether I was happy to settle for being second-best to Colonel Carter."

"John," Rodney breathes. He'd obviously said something wrong last night, if _that's_ what Sheppard thinks. He cups John's face and looks him in the eye as he tells him, "I have _never_ thought of you as a consolation prize."

This time when Sheppard's hands move to unfasten his buckle, Rodney lets him. He holds his breath as Sheppard pushes his shirt up - watching, waiting, for any sign that his body disgusts him. But Sheppard just looks at him with wonder, as if Rodney's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. Which is crazy. But when John lowers his mouth to Rodney's stomach and kisses, _sucks_ the soft flesh there, he sucks in a breath, and he can feel John's smile against his skin. In that moment he _feels_ beautiful, desirable.

"Hmm," John moans happily, mouthing lower. Fingers stroke up his thighs, tucking into his waistband and tugging down.

His clothes are soon discarded in a pile on the floor, but Sheppard's too busy lavishing Rodney's touch-starved body with affection to undress himself just yet.

Rodney's erection lies heavy across his stomach as Sheppard kisses and sucks at his thighs, cock leaking as his mouth moves to his balls. He palms a hand over his chest, toying with a nipple as Sheppard licks a stripe up the length of his cock before curling a hand around its length and taking the head in his mouth. Warm, wet heat engulfs him, and _fuck! Is this what he's been missing out on all these years?_ He hates all those who've used him and left him wanting with a newfound passion.

He reaches down and strokes a hand through Sheppard's thick, unruly hair. Naked. He wants him naked.

"Sheppard?" He wriggles and squirms beneath him. "John, stop. Stop!"

Immediately Sheppard slides off him with a wet _pop_ and looks up at him with concern.

"What—"

"Get up here," Rodney demands, tugging at his shoulders.

Sheppard complies, and Rodney can finally begin fumbling with buttons and tugging at zippers until he's naked and there's skin-on-skin and an erection pressing into his thigh and Rodney kisses him desperately, tasting traces himself on John's tongue. He moans.

"Are you okay?" he asks when his fingers trail across Sheppard's bandage. "Should you be doing this?"

"I'm good," he assures Rodney. "Doc suggested I get plenty of bedrest. And I'm here, in bed."

"But not _resting_," Rodney points out.

John smirks and kisses him. "What do you want?" he asks him huskily.

"You," Rodney murmurs against his mouth. "Just you. All of you."

"You've got me," Sheppard promises. "Now what do you _want?_"

What does he want? He wants Sheppard's mouth on his cock, he wants to kiss him, he wants to take his hard length in his hand and stroke... He wants.

"I want you inside me," he breathes.

"Oh, _God_, Rodney..." John's head drops onto his shoulder as he just _breathes_ \- then he's rolling off him and rummaging through his clothes and muttering to himself. A moment later he's got a bottle of lube in his hand and an embarrassed look on his face. "I didn't want to assume, but... Better to be prepared, right?"

For the second time that night John renders him speechless, and all Rodney can do is nod.

When John pushes one lube-slicked finger inside Rodney, he moans. "Your so _tight_. Been a while, huh?"

"You've got no idea," Rodney tells him, staring at the ceiling and trying to keep his breathing steady. _Relax. Stay calm. Don't freak out._

One finger becomes two, then three, then he's on his knees and Sheppard's cock is pushing into him. For one irrational minute Rodney fears his ass might split until suddenly Sheppard's past the muscle and Rodney's body is practically pulling him in and he's _so full_ and it feels _so good_.

It's underwhelming when Sheppard begins to move, however. The feeling of Sheppard moving in and out isn't painful, but nor is it pleasurable. It just... is. He pushes back onto John's cock and they manage to fall into a rhythm that works for them both. Is this what it's supposed to feel like? Because no wonder John decided _he_ was going to top, if the bottom is just a hole to fuck. Just like Rodney's been a convenient hand or a mouth to fuck all his life. He shouldn't be surprised, really... John keeps stopping to adjust himself, however, until eventually he pulls out altogether. Did he come? He can't have - Rodney would surely have noticed. He's aware of an empty feeling in his ass as he's rolled onto his back, and a quick glance down tells him that no, John hasn't come. And is that— No, he doesn't even want to think about what's on the outside of the condom.

John's manhandling his legs as he pushes in again and Rodney is worried all over again about his stitches as he's told, "I know it's murder on your hips this way, so just wrap your legs around me and let me do most of the work, okay? Going to make you feel so good."

And crap, is he really that bad that Sheppard has to take over? Because then he's going to _know_ that Rodney hasn't done this before and— _Oh, God!_ Pleasure bursts inside him as Sheppard thrusts in.

"There we go," John grins like the cat that got the cream.

And okay, if _this_ is what being fucked feels like then why the hell wouldn't Sheppard want to be on the receiving end?! His head falls back as Sheppard keeps trying to find the spot that lights him up from the inside, not always finding but always searching, and oh, this was better than he'd ever imagined it could be—

"I thought you'd done this before?"

Oh, crap, did he say that out loud? He must have done, because John is still talking.

"Or do you usually top? You should have said, I'd have bottomed. Rodney?" John presses, when he doesn't answer.

Rodney closes his eyes and shakes his head. "I've never... There have been people, but not... not _this_."

Sheppard freezes for a second, half in and half out, and Rodney fears he's said the wrong thing. But then Sheppard's choking on his name and moving again and maybe he hasn't ruined this. Except this time he moves slower, taking his time, and it's both better and worse and he doesn't know which is best. Then Sheppard's hand slides under his head, forcing Rodney to look at him, and he isn't wearing any clothes but _this_, staring into Sheppard's eyes as his pleasure builds and builds, coming under Sheppard's careful gaze, unravelling in Sheppard's arms as they cling to one another, _this_ is what truly makes him feel naked and vulnerable.

. * * * .

He expects to wake up alone in the morning so, although it hurts, it isn't a surprise to find the other side of his bed empty. He closes his eyes again and shifts under the covers, his ass still a little sore but overall feeling more relaxed than he's felt in a long time. He wonders how things will play out between them. DADT means they have to be careful, if there's even a 'they'. Rodney's still a little afraid that this is just like all the other times men have used him. His stomach clenches as he realises that he'd knowingly _let_ Sheppard use him, time and time again, and God he's even more pathetic than he'd thought.

He sniffs suddenly, the aroma of coffee brewing interrupting his pessimistic thoughts. He cracks one eye open, the other opening immediately as he sees Sheppard standing, in all his naked glory, pouring his not-so-secret stash of coffee into two mugs.

"Morning, sleepyhead," he smirks.

"Morning," Rodney echoes, with a trace of disbelief. "You're still here."

Sheppard looks doubtful. "Should I have gone? I just thought—"

But Rodney's already halfway out of bed, for the first time in forever unashamed of his nakedness as he pads across the room to touch Sheppard. "You're still here," he repeats, and smiles.

"Yeah, Rodney," Sheppard smiles, wrapping an arm around his waist and kissing him gently. "I'm still here."


End file.
